Shine (34 page)

I couldn’t go home without the answers I needed—not just about the Shine and the Shift, but about Flight 346 and the draft and what my government would do to me now that I’d turned eighteen.

But as I stood there in the rain, with no ghosts in sight, hope bloomed within me. If Zachary and I had undone the Shift this morning at Newgrange, most of my problems would disappear. My life would open up with infinite possibilities.

I headed back toward the pub, avoiding the large puddles. The storefronts’ red and green holiday lights reflected in the water’s shimmering surfaces.

I stopped short. Ahead of me, a round puddle next to a parking meter reflected a color that had nothing to do with Christmas.

Violet.

The young woman’s ghost drifted between the parked cars, then crossed the road, ignoring the vehicles passing through her. She moved deliberately, maybe putting space between herself and the candy shop’s red holiday lights.

Whatever had happened this morning at Newgrange had been mysterious and powerful. But it hadn’t ended the Shift.

I entered the pub and climbed onto the barstool next to Zachary’s. He gaped at my soaking hair and clothes.

“They have indoor plumbing here, aye?”

“I took a walk.” I slumped to put my head onto my fist. “And saw a ghost.”

“I’m sorry.” He poured me a steaming cup of tea from a metal pot. “Maybe Padraig Murphy was right—it’s Dowth we need to visit, at sunset tomorrow.”

I pointed to the TV above the bar. “The weather guy said it’s going to rain again.”

“Maybe it won’t matter whether the light hits us or not. Maybe it’s our being there at the right time.” He dug into his piece of chocolate cake. “After all, the sun goes where it goes regardless of clouds.”

“I guess.”

“Besides, Dowth means ‘darkness.’ So it makes sense that it would be the opposite of Newgrange. Talking of darkness, did you still want to try to turn a shade tonight at solstice?”

“Definitely.”

“So no kissing you for hours before?”

I let out a whimper. “Sorry. Probably not after six p.m.”

His knee nudged mine under the bar. “But now’s good, aye?”

Before I could answer, he kissed me, letting the barest edge of his tongue graze my upper lip. Maybe it was the lingering taste of tea and chocolate, but the feel of his mouth on mine sent a shock of adrenaline out to the tips of my toes and fingers, and all parts in between.

Yes,
I thought,
now is very good.

The hearth held no fire, a draft whistled through the crack between the balcony doors, and our quilt was … somewhere. But winter couldn’t touch me and Zachary. Our only shivers came from the
touch of hands and mouths, our only shudders from the quakes within. And in that mystical place we dwelled in together—which we felt even more vividly than before—the air was anything but cold.

Afterward, we lay pressed together, our breath caught in the same slowing rhythm. I wanted to fall asleep just as I was, using him as a full body pillow beneath me. By the way he kept me snug against him, tracing lazy circles on the back of my shoulder blade, I didn’t think he’d mind.

Finally Zachary whispered my name, his tongue barely tapping the
r
. Then he said, “I never want to leave this place as long as I live.”

“You mean County Meath or this room?”

“This place.” He spread his palm against my side. “Specifically.”

I closed my eyes tighter. “Happy birthday.” It was a statement, not a wish.

Zachary sucked in a breath. “Birthday! I have a present for you.” He slid from beneath me, switched on the lamp, and opened the nightstand drawer. A small box wrapped in gold paper glimmered in the light.

My bliss turned to glee. “Thank you! Can I open yours last? Gina gave me something, too.”

We washed up, got dressed, and met back in bed ten minutes later. The thought of opening my aunt’s gift while naked totally squicked me out. After glancing at her card, I tore the blue paper off the gift.

The jewelry-type box looked suspiciously like the one she’d given me last year, which had held an obsidian necklace that drove Logan over the edge into shadedom. Had she regifted me that present?

I lifted the lid. It was a silver chain with a teardrop-shaped piece of clear quartz. Ghosts’ favorite gem.

“Funny.” I lifted the chain, examining the transparent stone. “Last year I had a ghost boyfriend and she got me obsidian. This year I have an anti-ghost boyfriend and she gets me clear quartz.” I looked at Zachary. “She wants me to be a nun.”

He laughed. “The stone doesn’t bother me.” He touched it. “See?”

“But you’re not as red right now as you usually are.”

“And you’re not as violet as you usually are. Does the stone bother you?”

I laid it in my palm, letting the chain curl around it like a snake. “Nope.”

“That’s because we’re alive.” He folded my fingers over the gem. “Before all else, we’re human.”

I nodded as I put on the necklace, hoping he was right.

“My turn.” He handed me his present. “It’s not what it looks like. Well, it is, but not what you think it is. Except, it is.”

“Ooo-kay.” I took off the wrapping to find a square velvet jewelry box, just like the one my temporary engagement and wedding rings had come in. My heart thudded, then calmed. If Zachary were going to ask me to marry him for real, it wouldn’t have slipped his mind, no matter how crazy the day got.

The box lid creaked open, revealing a silver Claddagh ring, hands holding a crowned heart. The classic Irish ring.

“I’ve always wanted one of these! How’d you know?”

“Look, there’s an inscription.” He pulled the ring out of the box and held it to the light. “I thought about having our initials
done, but it seemed like a security risk. Then I had an idea.”

I peered at the words.
MO ANAM CARAID
. Soul mate.

“Zach …” It perfectly fit my right middle finger. “It’s beautiful, thank you. My gift for you isn’t nearly as romantic.”

“You’ve already given me the only thing I wanted.”

I squinted at him. Did he mean my virginity? Because that was a little—

“Your trust.” He ran his thumb over the Claddagh ring. “I know I broke it, on prom night. I still haven’t forgiven myself.”

“You’ve done plenty of penance.” I slipped him a birthday card. “Your present’s in here.”

Zachary tore the envelope open with abandon. He pulled out the two pieces of paper and angled them to the light.

“What—what is this?”

“Vouchers. You trade them in for tickets once the game schedule’s official. The match schedule, I mean.”

“You—you’re sending me to the U-20 World Cup final rounds? Next summer? In Milan?”

“Not sending you. Taking you.” I fidgeted with my toes. “Hopefully by then I’ll have saved money for our plane tickets.”

He kept staring at me, seemingly unable to do anything else. “Will ye come with me, then?”

“That’s the idea,” I said slowly. “I thought it’d be cool to go to Italy together.”

“You realize it’s soccer-football, not American-football.”

“Right. The college version of the World Cup. Are you okay? Did I—”

He tackled me, pinning me to the mattress and cutting off my words with a hard, joyful kiss. I realized that for Zachary, my gift to him was ten times as romantic as a ring.

“Aura, it’s the best present anyone ever gave anyone. Sorry I was pure glaikit there for a moment. I couldnae believe it.” His smile faded a little. “You hate my sort of football.”

“Then teach me to love it.” I drew my hand over his waistband. “When we go, will you wear your kilt to show national pride?”

Zachary laughed. “That’s what this gift is about? Getting me into the kilt?”

“Getting you out of the kilt, actually. Why didn’t you bring one with you on this trip?”

Comprehension dawned on his face. “Because I’m stupid. A kilt’s like male lingerie to you American lasses, isn’t it?”

“Pretty much. And you’re not stupid, just innocent.”

Zachary gasped. “Innocent? That sounds like a challenge.”

“Are you up for it?”

“Completely.” He sat up and started to remove his shirt.

The mini grandfather clock on the mantel chimed six. Reality time.

“Eight hours till solstice.” I thumped my heel against the bed in aggravation. “We have to keep apart until after I call the shades.”

Zachary tossed his shirt aside. “Earlier we only needed six hours.”

“Six hours after
kissing
. We’re totally mingled here.”

“I know.” He covered me with his body and pressed his mouth to the hollow of my throat. “I like us that way.”

I wanted to melt into him, but forced myself to put my hand between us. “Zach, just this once.”

“But you’re on holiday.
We’re
on holiday. And already spending too much of it at arm’s length.”

“After I fix the shades, we can—”

“After you fix the shades, you’ll be heaving your guts out.” His voice grew desperate. “The only bed you’ll be warming is a hospital bed.”

I pushed him away. “I have to try.”

Zachary dropped to lie on his back beside me, bunching the quilt in his fist. “This is about
him
, isn’t it? You care about shades not just because you’re kind, but because you were in love with one.”

He meant Logan, of course. My heart cracked to see his anger. “I loved him when he was a shade, but I wasn’t
in
love with him.”

“Love,
in
love—what’s the difference?”

I kept forgetting that guys didn’t grasp these nuances. “Loving someone means you care about them and want them to be happy. Being
in
love means you can’t imagine living without them.”

Zachary covered his face, dragging his fingertips over his brows. “Which is it, then, for us?”

He was really losing it if he didn’t know the answer to that question.

“I’ll always love Logan.” I took one of Zachary’s hands from his face and held it between my own. “And I’ll always be
in
love with you.”

He stared at the ceiling. “Do you want to know when I fell in love with you? When I knew I never wanted to leave your side?”

“When?” I imagined it to be some huge moment, like when I’d almost fallen off that cliff running from the DMP.

“That night under the stars, when you recited the Gettysburg Address with a Scottish accent.”

“What?” I started to laugh. “You hadn’t even kissed me yet.”

“But I was about to. Before your aunt rang your cell phone and stopped me.” He took a deep breath, let it out in a frustrated groan, then shifted to the other side of the bed. “If I could survive that, I can survive this.”

I sat up, marveling at the rapid return of his composure. “Thanks.”

He flopped back onto his pillow and gazed up at me with his arm across his forehead, looking positively irresistible. “Let’s spend every birthday here.”

“Okay.”

“No matter where we are in the world, we’ll come back to this room.” He jabbed his finger against the mattress with a flourish. “To this bed.”

“I’d like that,” I said, making the understatement of the millennium.

He tucked his legs beneath the sheets. “Dunno about you, but I could use a wee nap before dinner.”

“Me too.” I slid under the covers.

Zachary rolled toward me, crooking his arm under his pillow. “If we ever want to work with ghosts together, we’ll have to do this a lot.”

“Stare at each other?”

“Stay apart for hours, even if we’re in the same room.”

I touched the soft, puffy quilt between us. “Beats video chats.”

“Aye. And you know what the best part will be?” He placed his hand near mine, our fingertips an inch apart. “The end of each workday, when we can put the ghosts aside.”

Every tiny muscle inside me quivered. “Uh-huh.”

“And be together. All over each other. In every way.”

I closed my eyes, imagining. “I can’t wait.”

As soon as I said the word, a pang struck deep inside me. I had to go home, finish school, save up money. We
would
have to wait. But not forever.

When I opened my eyes again, Zachary was already asleep.

I wondered what he’d meant by “no matter where we are in the world.” Did he mean together or apart?

My thumb stroked “Laura’s” wedding band as I imagined our separate future lives: Zachary living in a house in the suburbs, married to a Scottish lady with red hair and freckles. Little kids playing tag through the kitchen, hiding behind Zachary’s long legs. Him calling the smallest one a “cheeky monkey” and lifting her high over his head, face lighting up at the sound of her giggles.

The thought of him belonging to someone else sawed out a jagged hole in my chest.